


Amnesia

by ladydragon76



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 20:42:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3909982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> No one knows how it happened, but then again no one bothered to ask the Matrix.  Not that Primus would tell them anyway.  He was done trying to speak to those that didn’t know how to listen anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amnesia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LB82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LB82/gifts).



> **‘Verse:** G1  
>  **Series:** None  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Characters:** Optimus Prime/Megatron (Orion/Megatron)  
>  **Warnings:** Sparks Smut  
>  **Notes:** We’ve all seen this trope before, but a few years ago now, the twin and I were saying that we liked it, but- So here’s what LB82 wanted to see out of the trope. ^_^ Enjoy! And it’s May 10th here! Happy Birthday, my Twin! I love you!  <3 (oh and this is fic #400 for me O_O )

Orion groaned as he woke, his head throbbing so painfully it made his tanks lurch with nausea as he rolled to his side. He heard an answering, equally pained sound from another mech, and forced his optics open. The silver mech was close enough to touch, but completely unfamiliar. Large, clearly powerful, obviously part of the heavy machinery class, and utterly marred with dents, carbon scoring, and gouges that went right to bare metal. Orion pushed himself up, moving slowly to keep from upsetting his tanks into a purge, but the pain was beginning to settle into a dull throb. At least until he noticed the surroundings.

Organic!

Orion swept his gaze around. He knew the words for the things he saw. Grass, trees, rocks. Dirt. Primus, he was going to need to decontaminate once he managed to get home. They might not even let him back on Cybertron without going through the same process the deep-space explorers went through. Of course, where was he, and how did he get back to Cybertron?

The silver mech groaned again, limbs shifting as he dragged himself back to consciousness too. Orion reached out and rested a hand on a wide shoulder. “Easy, friend.”

“Was there a cave-in?” a rough, deep voice asked.

“Cave-in?” Orion parroted. “No.”

Red optics, pale with pain, cracked open and landed on Orion before flickering and staring up at the colorfully painted sky. “What…?”

“I’m Orion.” He scooted just a little closer to the mech. “I think we’re lost and probably in trouble.”

“Megatron,” the mech replied absently, then the landscape seemed to process, and he flinched upright, large black hands swiping at his plating. Then the rough movement caught up to him, and Megatron moaned and clutched his head. “It’s organic. Primus, _how_?!”

“I don’t know,” Orion answered. “But it’s ok. It’s not toxic to us. At least I don’t think it is. My systems aren’t showing any issues with it.”

Megatron’s optics remained wide and bright, but they returned to a more normal red and his vents slowed. “Trouble is right. I shouldn’t be here. My- The owner of the mine won’t be pleased if I don’t turn up for my shift.”

Orion felt his optics go round. “You’re a miner?”

Megatron faced him, his expression closing off. “Yes.”

“From one of those sorts that _owns_ everything connected to the mine?” Orion didn’t want to say slave, but he shouldn’t have worried.

“Yes. I’m enslaved. You may flee now.”

Orion blinked, then grinned. “Don’t be ridiculous. Slavery’s wrong, but I’m not dim enough to hold your circumstances against you.” Megatron blew out a breath that could either have been annoyance or amusement, but Orion couldn’t tell, then turned his gaze to the landscape. Orion took the opportunity too, but none of it was any more familiar than it had been when he first opened his optics.

Tall trees with bushy, strange branches surrounded them and stretched up into a sky growing darker by the minute. Fingers of red and orange still reached along the bottoms of the high clouds, but the light was fading and stars were becoming visible in the lavender and indigo that crept along above.

“So,” Orion said. “I’ve no idea where we are or how we got here. You?”

Megatron brought his attention back to Orion and shook his helm. “No. I was recharging. My chrono’s off, so I don’t even know how much longer I have until my shift begins.”

Orion hadn’t even thought of his chrono, but when he checked it, it was wildly off too. “Mine’s glitched as well. I was…” He thought about it. “I let a friend convince me to accompany him to a bar, but I was bored. I went home early and decided to recharge despite it not being very late yet. Tomorrow’s my free day from the archives, and I was thinking I would get out early and see about visiting the Crystal Gardens to study a while.”

“You are an archivist?” Megatron asked, optics sweeping along Orion’s frame.

Face heated, Orion nodded. “I used to work on the docks of Iacon, unloading the energon shipments. I studied in all my spare time and scraped up the credits to take the classes. Friends helped. Even my manager helped and wrote me a letter of recommendation when I applied to the Archives.”

“I’m surprised they accepted you.”

A huff of surprised laughter escaped Orion. It had been a while since he’d been around anyone as blunt as Megatron appeared to be. It was refreshing and he thought he could like this mech. “I was surprised too. That’s why I’m still studying and taking classes. I think they’re waiting for my stupid to suddenly surface.”

“Workers are rarely as unintelligent as they think we are,” Megatron said. “Ignorant and trapped in most cases, but not incapable of learning to be more.”

“Oh, I agree.” Orion chuckled and stuck out his hand. “Hello, Megatron. Shall we see if we can find some kind of civilization and get home?”

Megatron hesitated a moment, then clasped Orion’s wrist in greeting. “I’m not sure I want to go back. No matter what I say, they’ll think I ran away.” He looked back up at the sky, frowning at the pale stars as he released Orion’s arm. “Where _are_ we?”

Orion climbed to his feet. “Let’s find out. And if it comes to it, and they really think you ran away, I’ll vouch for you. I know some of my supervisors think I might fail, but they all know I’m honest. Once we get home, we’ll see if they can help us figure this out.”

Megatron rose too, then turned in a slow circle. “Which way?”

That was a good question, and Orion sighed while chewing his lower lip. He brought a hand up to his face, startling when his hand bumped plating instead. “What? What’s this?”

“A blast mask?” Megatron replied, helm tipping, and a smirk beginning to form. “Not common on librarians, but I could see the point of it if you were handling energon shipments.”

“No…” Orion patted around on it. It was linked to his systems, definitely a part of him, but it didn’t belong. “I never had a blast mask.”

“You look like you’ve been through an explosion though,” Megatron added with a gesture at Orion.

Frowning, Orion looked down, optics widening in shock at the marks and dents and scrapes that went right down to bare metal on his own body. “Primus! Whatever brought us here wasn’t gentle.”

“What?”

“You too,” Orion replied and pointed at Megatron.

“The frag?” Megatron winced as he prodded at a dent. “Not only were they not gentle, I think they beat us. Look.” He stepped forward and squinted at Orion’s shoulder. “Yeah. That’s from someone grabbing you roughly.”

Orion tried to see, but it was the outside of his shoulder, and it was growing dark. “Well. Whatever the cause, I don’t think we should just stand around here until someone comes looking for us.” He pointed in the direction of the setting sun. “Let’s head that way.”

“Why that way?”

Orion shrugged. “I like sunsets?”

Megatron snickered. “Good enough for me.”

Orion grinned, and then started walking. There was no way to get through the trees without touching them, but he tried to be careful and not harm them. Megatron followed, flinching from the prickly brush of the branches and staying close to Orion.

“I think these things are bleeding on me,” Megatron said after a while. “I can feel something tacky on me where they’ve touched.”

Orion could too, but it was fully dark now, and while his lights helped him see where to place his feet, he couldn’t see his shoulders or sides. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. “We’re being as careful as we can. Hopefully we’ll get clear soon and not harm too many more of them.”

Megatron grunted acknowledgement and moved closer to Orion. So close, in fact, that when the archivist suddenly stopped, Megatron crashed right into his back.

“Ow!”

“Sorry,” Megatron said instantly. “Why’d you- Oh.”

Orion leaned forward to look left and right along the road. “This means civilization.”

“I would advise caution. We don’t know if they’re friendly or not.” Megatron edged around Orion to look as well. “Though I see no lights.” He stepped out onto the road. “Gravel. Not even paved.”

“So possibly underdeveloped,” Orion added, “or this is just an unimportant road that isn’t often used.”

“Let’s hope for the second one,” Megatron said, then he transformed.

Orion watched, optics wide as a _blaster_ clattered to the ground. For a moment, Megatron didn’t move or speak, and when he did, his voice rang with confusion. “What am I? This isn’t right. What…? Orion?” He transformed again, optics on his hands where they dug into the gravel of the road. He slowly turned his helm to look up at the archivist.

“A weapon,” Orion whispered. “You turned into a large, very lethal looking blaster. Too short to be a rifle, but too big to be a pistol.” He shook his helm, hands coming up to cover his mouth. He startled all over again when he touched the mask.

“Why the frag do I transform into a blaster?” Megatron shoved himself to his feet, optics wide and plating clamped in tight.

Orion bit his lip and stepped out onto the road as well. With a quick prayer to Primus, he transformed. It was wrong, the sequence off from what it should have been, but he could feel the gritty rocks under his tires and his engine rumbled to life at a thought. “Uh… It’s not the same, but at least I can transport us?”

“How?” Megatron asked. “I can’t hold on to you as a slagging _gun_!”

Orion shifted back and stood. “Probably safer that we walk anyway.” He was disturbed enough himself, so he could only imagine how distressing this was for Megatron. He didn’t want to upset the mech too much before he had a chance to process. “That way we can duck back into the trees if we need to.”

“Yes,” Megatron agreed, then set off.

Orion hurried forward, settling into step beside Megatron, the road just wide enough to them to walk abreast together.

~ | ~

Orion cried out and shoved against the monster that pinned him to the bloody ground. Blaster fire and explosions rang in his audials. Mechs were screaming, and he had the sense that they were looking to _him_ to help them.

“Orion!” a deep voice called.

Still fighting the powerful grip, Orion tried to kick, but he was trapped. He screamed, but it was cut off as he was lifted and dropped hard to the ground.

Blue optics snapped open to stare into bright red. Orion whimpered and clutched at the silver mech, the fog of his nightmare fading far too slowly.

“Orion?” Megatron repeated. His hands were still tight on Orion’s shoulders, the weight of his body pressing down.

A sob escaped before Orion could muffled it, but he inhaled and blew the air back out. His gaze turned to the dark, star-strewn sky. There was a thicker band of stars arching over them, and for a long few minutes, he just stared past Megatron’s shoulder and cycled his vents.

“Better?” Megatron asked after a while.

“I think.”

“Pit of a nightmare,” the silver mech commented and shifted to the side, though he stayed close, propped up on an elbow to look down at the archivist.

Orion rolled his helm to the side to meet Megatron’s optics. “I apologize for disturbing you.”

Megatron stretched out along Orion’s side, one arm draped over him in a familiar way despite their only having known one another for one of this planet’s days. “My dreams were not pleasant either. You woke me from violence and blood.”

“Mine was the same,” Orion said in surprise and rolled toward Megatron. The day with its bright sun had been pleasant and warm even as they walked through the trees. The road they found had ended in an open meadow, and rather than backtrack and lose all the progress a night’s worth of walking afforded them, they had just continued on. “I can’t imagine where such… gory dreams would come from. I saw my fair share of accidents on the docks, but not like this. It was like…”

“A pitched battle,” Megatron said as Orion trailed off. “Mechs were screaming. Things were exploding all around me, and there was this… sense of hatred.”

Orion shivered and pressed closer to Megatron, then went so far as to nuzzle into his neck. “This is certainly an improvement from such dark thoughts.”

The silver mech chucked and wrapped his arms better around Orion. “Indeed. I’ve always found it relaxing to have a warm, attractive mech pressed against me.” He reached up and tapped the archivist’s mask. “Does this retract?”

Orion blinked, then searched for the commands. It took a moment, but then the mask split down the middle and retracted into the sides of his helm. He grinned at Megatron. “I can’t believe I hadn’t thought to try that.” They had been a bit distracted, but he thought maybe he should have considered it before now.

Megatron reached up, fingertips touching Orion’s face, then one traced his lower lip. “A _very_ attractive mech.”

Orion’s optics widened in surprise, but he didn’t dodge the kiss when Megatron leaned in. Something inside went warm and content, but after a moment, he pulled back and offered the silver mech a smile. “Is recharging like this alright with you?”

Megatron nodded. “Chase one another’s nightmares away.”

“I promise I’m not a sparkling,” Orion snickered.

A black hand came up and lightly stroked fingers down along Orion’s cheek. “No. That you are not,” Megatron purred, but he shifted around so he could more comfortably lie on his side. “Recharge well, Orion.”

Orion watched red optics dim and shut, then snuggled in and let himself drift off as well.

~ | ~

It was already well past sunset, and they were looking for a glade big enough to lie down in when Megatron gripped Orion’s wrist and squeezed. Orion glanced at the now incredibly still mech, then leaned to the side closer to Megatron. His optics widened as he spotted the cause of the silver mech’s reaction. Through the trees, just visible, was an artificial light. It glowed yellow, and as they crept closer, Orion saw it was shining through the window of a small domicile.

“Look,” Megatron whispered and pointed. “More. A settlement, I think.” He moved through the trees carefully, and pointed again. “Is that… water?”

Orion squinted. “I think so. Makes sense, right? Organics? I think I read something about them building their settlements near waterways on most planets.”

Megatron made a soft sound, then crept closer. Orion was amazed by how quietly the other mech could move and did his best to do so as well. They heard the cadence of voices, and Orion’s scowl matched Megatron’s as they crouched and listened.

“I can understand that,” Megatron said, his voice barely loud enough to call a whisper.

Orion nodded, equally confused, but they both listened to the organics chattering.

“Oh, turn it off, Frank,” the one said. “We came here to relax, not watch the news and get even more stressed out. Last thing I want to hear about now is that damn alien war.”

“Oughta blast all of them right back into space,” a gruffer voice replied.

There was a snort, and something glass clinked against another surface. “They tried that. Some… mayor, wasn’t it? Those machines came right back to destroy more of our world.”

“Should nuke ‘em then.”

Orion and Megatron shared a look. Alien war? Machines? Were there others of their kind on this planet then?

“Oh sure, let’s punish the state of Washington,” the first voice snarked. “Those poor people.”

“Poor all of us,” the gruff voice said. “And those Autobots aren’t any better than the Decepticons.” A huff. “Sure that one likes to talk about peace, but you notice how he always has that big ass gun in his hand?”

“Frank…”

“Bah!” The other, more muted voices suddenly stopped. “You’re right. We have fishing to do bright and early anyways.”

Orion remained still until the lights were turned off, then noted that many of the other little buildings had gone dark as well. Megatron touched his wrist, and then led them both in a wide arc around the settlement. They paused on the edge of a dark, paved road.

“We should go to this state of Washington,” Megatron said. “If there are other Cybertronians here, we should find them.”

“They said alien war,” Orion pointed out. “Should we be walking into a battlefield?”

Megatron shrugged and lifted his right arm to show the blaster barrel of his alternate form. “I turn into a gun, Orion. Maybe we were taken and modified? Maybe we got lost or escaped. It sounds like there are two distinct factions. We can go and watch them. See which side might be the most helpful to us. Pits, there could be others that aren’t fighting.”

Orion sighed and nodded. “The aliens might not be Cybertronians.”

“Unlikely if we’re here.” Megatron pointed along the road in the direction that led away from the settlement. “We should follow this until we can learn which direction we should be travelling.”

“And only move at night,” Orion added with a look around. “If these organics are having trouble with aliens or alien machines, it would be unwise to be seen.”

“Agreed.”

~ | ~

For the first two nights after the settlement, Orion and Megatron mostly wandered west while skirting the towns and cities they came across. Travelling by night helped while in the forests, but the organics did not hide in the dark so they were extremely cautious and slow in open spaces. Megatron dared creep close to a fueling station and ‘borrowed’ a map in the early hours before dawn just that morning, and now the two studied it as they waited for the sun to set again. They laid side by side on their fronts, braced up on their elbows and helms close to see the minuscule thing as best they could.

“I think we’re here,” Megatron said, squinting at the map and pointing. “Which,” he chuckled, “means your love of sunsets has led us closer to our goal.” His finger tracked to the left and tapped the word ‘WASHINGTON’.

“See?” Orion teased and rocked his hips to the side to bump against Megatron’s.

The silver mech dipped his helm and pressed a soft kiss to Orion’s shoulder. “A mech with good instincts,” he purred, making heat flush through Orion’s lines.

“Flirt.”

Megatron chuckled a low note and nuzzled in to Orion’s neck. “Is that a complaint?”

“No, but you’re very distracting.” The archivist tipped his helm and stole a kiss of his own before rolling to his feet. “And while I would love to let you distract me, now that we know where we’re going, I want to get moving.”

Megatron grinned, but then looked back down at the map. “I don’t think we can make this trip in a single night. Not unless we risk you driving, and even then the organics will note the odd vehicle with a gun rattling around on its roof.”

Orion sat back down and sighed. “I’m impatient, but I know we need to be careful. Safe is better than fast.” He leaned forward and pointed. “This doesn’t seem far from us now though. ‘Plains’. That means open and flat.” He frowned and chewed his lip.

“During the day we can transform. You do look like their vehicles, so we will just recharge in our alts. You can park over me to obscure the large weapon from casual sight.”

Orion smirked and met red optics. “So I get to be on top?”

Megatron laughed and began to refold the tiny scrap of paper. “Now who’s flirting?”

They set out through the trees as the sky shaded to indigo, and for a while neither spoke, but the words of those organics still weighed on Orion’s mind. “What could have happened?”

“To us?” Megatron shrugged.

“To us. Assuming, probably safely, that those _are_ Cybertronians fighting in Washington, what happened?” Orion asked. “Why are Cybertronians fighting one another?”

“It can’t be that difficult for you to believe,” Megatron said. “You worked the docks. Were mechs happy there?” He shook his helm and held a branch out of the way for them both. “You yourself mentioned how at the archives they seem to be waiting for you to fail. It’s the same in the mines. We’re treated like slag, but no one above the lowest class of mechs seems to know or care.”

Orion couldn’t argue with that. “So you think this is an… uprising?” He scowled and ducked a branch. “How could it have spilled over to an alien world though?”

“Maybe?” The trees were thinning out, and Megatron fell into step next to Orion. “I’m a slave, Orion. I don’t like it. I don’t believe I, or any mech, should be forced to work until a cave in or explosion kills us just because some other mech decided we’re his property.” He glanced sideways, hesitant. “I’ve written about it. I’ve had to keep my identity secret to publish, and the mine’s owner has made possessing my writing punishable by death.”

Orion stared back with wide, round optics. “Primus. That’s not right! I mean, yeah, the docks were hard work, but we got paid at least. I had my own apartment.” Granted it was only large enough to store a bit of energon and fit a berth a bit too small for a mech Orion’s size. He shook his helm. “No, I agree with you. Such a system is bound to collapse, but how could it have happened so fast? Why don’t either of us remember it sliding that direction?”

Megatron stopped, optics wide and locked on Orion. “What if it did though?” he asked. “What if it’s not that we didn’t notice, but that we can’t remember?” His arms swept out. “Why would we be here? Where is _here_ anyways? I know I rarely got to the surface, but I loved the stars. I would watch them any chance I got, and _none_ of the constellations here are familiar.”

Orion had no answers, but his spark chilled at the thought that they might have lost memories. Then he gasped. “The damage we first woke with!”

Megatron just nodded solemnly. “Exactly.”

Orion cycled his vents and started walking again. It was full dark now, but it was still difficult to step from the shadows of the trees and into the field of… He didn’t know what it was, but it looked cultivated. “I don’t think we should walk on this.” Not far away there was a small cluster of buildings, and he was fairly sure whoever lived there would notice the big tracks through their field.

“We can edge along,” Megatron said and pointed. “It’s narrow, but hopefully less obvious.”

Orion wasn’t sure about that as he stepped into the soft earth. Megatron followed, and kicked his feet a bit to obscure the imprints, but they were still there. “Still less obvious than crushing their plants,” the silver mech said with a helpless shrug.

The stars wheeled overhead, and Orion counted the fences as they stepped over them. They were able to move more quickly than in the woods, but the price was that the organics’ lights came on while it was still technically night. Behind them, the eastern sky was barely beginning to shade from black to indigo again, and already Orion and Megatron had to rush to find a place to wait out the day. An old, rickety, half-collapsed building was chosen as their shelter, and as Megatron had suggested, Orion transformed and parked over the other mech, hoping fervently that they would not be discovered.

“This might be one of my more ridiculous ideas,” Megatron said from beneath Orion’s undercarriage.

Orion snickered quietly, and searched for a topic to distract them both that didn’t involve flirting. He wasn’t tired yet anyway. “We were talking earlier about how bad things are on Cybertron. If you were suddenly chosen as Prime, what would you do?”

“Pf. Easy. Abolish slavery, redistribute the energon hoards in the Towers, and place every last one of the Senators in spark prison.”

Orion chuckled. “I’m not sure it works quite that way politically.”

“Nonsense,” Megatron said, amusement in his tone. “I’m the Prime now, and I decree it. Why? What if you were Prime?”

Orion rocked on his tires, then stilled when he felt Megatron’s field flare with surprise. “Sorry. And… Well, slavery has to go, of course. I would make that proclamation right away. And mechs need the opportunity to learn and grow. It shouldn’t be so expensive to get an education. We’ll always need miners, but they should be paid a wage that reflects the risk they’re taking, and if they, or any other laborer mech wishes to move to a different field, that should be encouraged.”

“You think mechs would willingly work in the mines? Or at the docks?” Megatron asked.

“If they were paid properly,” Orion replied. “Make the slag jobs carry a high incentive. Give the workers pride in doing what supports our whole world instead of sneering down at the boorish dolt that unloaded the ship.” He had to resist rocking on his tires again, but let his field reflect his own anger at those old experiences. “The gutters. Most mechs would work if given the opportunity, but there are levels in Iacon that you can’t even enter if you aren’t properly documented.”

“So the elite don’t have to acknowledge we exist,” Megatron grumbled.

Orion was about to speak again when he heard machinery start up not far away. Golden light spilled across the green stalks and water hissed to life. “We might get wet,” he said in a softer voice.

“You might,” Megatron shot back with a laugh.

Orion sank down on his shocks in revenge. “Shh. I suppose we should try to recharge. But once we get back and find out what’s going on, we should see what we can do. I never thought much about _doing_ anything, but we should.”

“I spoke, but I doubt it was, or ever would have been enough.” Megatron’s field twitched and pushed up against Orion’s until the archivist lifted himself back up. He would sink back down again once he slipped into recharge, but there was no need to tell Megatron that. “We’ll see though,” the silver mech continued. “Maybe even just dying while shouting at them will inspire others to stand up. If all those enslaved and oppressed rose up against the status quo, what could they do?”

“They can’t kill us all, you mean.” That seemed more pessimistic than Orion wished to be, and he wasn’t ready to die at all. They would see, though. If their people were fighting, then it rested on them to do _something_. Didn’t it?

~ | ~

Avoiding detection became easier once Orion and Megatron reached the mountains, but getting to them took another dozen nights of walking. Not that Orion truly minded. The days were spent curled up in one another’s arms -when they could hide from sight- and nights were spend walking and speaking about every topic they could conjure up. Megatron searched his subspace for a datapad of his writing, and had been visibly distraught over its absence, which prompted Orion to dig into his own for one. He usually kept something on him to take notes with, but it too was gone. What they found instead was disturbing.

Orion had a large blaster and a number of other smaller weapons, but plenty of energon goodies. A good thing since hunger had begun to gnaw rather insistently at their tanks by the fifth day. Megatron had an energy mace of all things, and stasis cuffs. Some levity was injected into the discovery as the silver mech twirled them on a finger and smirked at Orion.

“Maybe when we reach trees again,” Megatron had teased.

Now that they had, Orion couldn’t help the flush of heat as he caught red optics on him.

“I know what you’re thinking about,” Megatron laughed. “Should we stop early tonight?”

Orion actually considered it, which earned him another laugh, but they were climbing up a steep slope now. “I want a real berth,” he said, then grunted as he reached up to grip a boulder and pull himself higher.

“A berth?” Megatron turned to lean back against the mountainside. “Ask the universe of me.”

“What? I’m not worth it?”

Red shaded darker as Megatron swept his gaze the length of Orion’s body. “Worth a thousand, but I’ve no berth to lie you on.”

Orion shivered. He was no stranger to flirting or interfacing, but the way Megatron purred the words, the sincerity, made the archivist’s spark thrum. He could never come up with anything to say in reply either. Megatron seemed pleased by that, but then they had to focus on the climb.

~

Dawn broke behind them as they finally stood on the last ridge before a final descent from the mountain range. Orion pointed. “What’s that?” They didn’t have a clear or straight path down, but the view stretched out into orange and browns far below them.

Megatron shook his helm. Light was _just_ reaching what looked like a dust storm. “Wait! Look!” He pointed too, finger tracing a line above where Orion had been looking. “Something’s flying.”

Orion watched. “A few somethings.”

For a few minutes nothing really changed, but then he gripped Megatron’s wrist. “They’re flying this way!”

They scrambled down off the ridge, slipping and sliding over loose rocks in their hurry to get back to the trees below them. Megatron cursed, metal screeching over the rocks as he landed on his aft and kept sliding. Orion rushed after him, but a glance up cost him his balance. He fell and rode the loose, tumbling rocks down, snapping slim trees as he went once he reached them.

“Orion!”

Orion twisted, digging his hands into the ground and managed to slow to a stop. A few body lengths to his left, Megatron clung to a tree trunk, his other fingers clawed into the earth. Rocks pinged off their plating before tumbling over the cliff just past their feet. “Oops?”

Megatron snorted a nervous laugh. “Glitch. Primus,” he cursed more softly.

Standing was out of the question. Not only was the ground far too unstable, but the sound of flight engines was growing closer. “They’ll see us,” Orion said as he crawled closer to Megatron.

“We can defend ourselves if we must.”

They watched as two jets shot over them, white and red chased by black and purple. Both circled back, the dark one firing at the lighter, then they were gone, the ground left trembling in their wake. Orion reset his audials and shared a look with Megatron.

As one, they moved, angling to the side to get beyond the rock slide and find an easier way down. “They had to have seen us,” Orion said, voice breathless from the fear and strain as he followed Megatron down over the cliff edge to a ridge below. “They had to have!”

“They did,” Megatron said, then crouched and pointed. “They’re rushing back to the others to report. See?”

Orion could see, and that troubled him. “We have to get down from here. There’s no place to protect us from being fired on.” It was a long way to the larger trees, however, and they weren’t as thick or as tall on this side.

“Be careful,” Megatron said, hand gripping Orion’s upper arm. “Watch your feet and the ground. Slag them. We’ll fight if we have to, but worry about that when it comes.”

Orion nodded. “Down, and quickly.”

“Yes.”

~

There was another flyby, but Orion and Megatron were further down by then. Going down was certainly faster than going up, but they were also forced onto a road to get past a deep ravine.

“Can you carry my weight?” Megatron asked as they approached the foothills. “If you transformed, and I knelt on the back of your alt mode and held to the roof?”

“I don’t know, but I’d be willing to try.” Anything to put some distance between them and the other mechs now. “Meet our goal and find other Cybertronians, and now we’re trying to escape from them.”

Megatron chuckled quietly and crept forward, his optics alert. “We should make up our minds.” He paused, and Orion squatted next to him, looking out at the open plain before them. “We run for the roadway. Do you see it?”

“Yes.”

They didn’t make it beyond a few long strides before mechs appeared all around them. Orion’s blaster was in his hand before he even registered the thought to draw it. Megatron’s arm weapon whined to life in a reaction just as instinctive.

A black and white mech stepped forward. “Optimus,” he said. “We feared you were- Never mind that. Whatever he’s done to you, you’re safe now.”

Orion and Megatron shared a look and stepped closer to one another.

“They’re glitched,” a Seeker said, his own weapons trained on Megatron and Orion almost casually. “Look at them. Afraid and confused.”

Orion cycled his vents. “We were lost,” he said slowly. “We aren’t interested in your war. We just want to go home.”

Looks were traded amongst the surrounding mechs, murmurs rising, but the black and white lifted a hand and looked toward the Seeker. “We take our mechs and leave.”

“Like I’m passing up-”

“Agreed,” a dark blue mech said, interrupting the Seeker.

“What?! You have no authority to decide such things, Soundwave. _I_ am leader of the Decepticons now!”

Soundwave gestured and the black and purple Seeker disappeared in a purple flash, only to reappear by Megatron. “Sorry, boss.”

Orion cried out, but someone larger than him gripped him and pulled him away from the purple flare and _vop_ sound of displaced air. Megatron reappeared next to Soundwave, who touched his helm, the red visor brightening. Orion shouted and struggled.

“Optimus, stop,” the mech holding him said, trying to sound soothing, but Orion didn’t know him and Megatron had just slumped unconscious into the Seeker’s arms.

“Release me! Let him go!” Orion threw an elbow backward, but the mech was even larger than he’d thought. A shuttle, but that barely registered.

“Optimus, please.”

Orion _screamed_ , fury and terror gutting him. He _couldn’t_ lose Megatron. He couldn’t! His spark twisted, and he screamed again, kicking and flailing.

Pain exploded in his head, and Orion reeled. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” the shuttle said as he lifted Orion.

The bright sunlight faded around the edges of Orion’s vision, and still he fought. “Megatron,” he whimpered, but then the black closed in.

~ | ~

Orion groaned at the pounding in his head as he woke. Squinting his optics open, he groaned again and squeezed them back shut. That was too glaring a color to wake to.

“Easy, Optimus,” a voice said, and a hand touched his shoulder.

Orion struggled to open his optics, then stared up into the concerned face of a mech that wore medic colors and symbols. “Orion.”

“What?”

“I’m Orion. Why do you keep calling me the other name?” Orion tried to lift his hand to his aching helm, but couldn’t.

“Don’t struggle,” the medic said. “You’re just bound for safety. We’ll let you go as soon as we’re sure you’re ok.”

“Frag that! Let me go!” Orion thrashed. “You have no right to imprison me! I’ve done nothing!”

“Optimus! Orion! Stop!” The medic shoved his hands down on the berth to keep it from toppling.

Under his own shouted demands for release, Orion heard doors hiss open and feet run toward him. His helm was throbbing, making his tanks roil, but he refused to lie quietly for these mechs.

“Optimus!” a new voice said. “The frag is wrong with him?!”

“Hang on,” the medic said. Orion yelped as something pinched at his arm, then suddenly he couldn’t move. “I need you to be calm, or I’ll have to sedate you.”

Orion stared up at the medic, furious and afraid, but he bit his lip and stopped shouting. He couldn’t move to fight anymore anyway. He dared glance at the other mechs. The one that had spoken before was large and red. The black and white that had spoken before Megatron was taken was there too, as was another mech whose helm fins glowed a dull blue as he stared at Orion with sad optics.

“Where am I?”

“What do you remember?” the black and white asked, ignoring Orion’s question.

“Being abducted,” Orion snarled back. “Where am I?”

“In the _Ark_ ,” the medic replied. “Tell us your name again?”

“Orion.”

“The frag?” the red one gasped.

Looks were shared right over Orion, and he got the distinct impression they were talking on comms with one another.

Comms! Orion tried to access his to reach Megatron but found them disabled. Glitches. He sighed, drawing their attention back to him. “Why are you holding me here?”

“You think your name is Orion?” the black and white asked.

Orion growled, but replied, “Yes,” through gritted teeth.

“And what is your last memory, from before we found you and Megatron?”

“You mean before we woke up half a continent away?” Orion asked. The mech nodded, so he sighed again. “I’d gone to recharge in my berth. The following day was to be my day off from the archives,” he replied, tone flat. “I was planning to go to the Crystal Gardens, but I woke up next to a strange silver mech.”

“And what’d he tell you?” the red one asked.

“His name is Megatron, and he’s a miner.” Orion tried to move, but his body wouldn’t respond. “Let me up! Let me go! I don’t want any part of this.”

“Ratchet, we need to know what is happening physiologically,” the black and white said.

“I’ve already commed Perceptor.”

“Stop talking over me!”

The medic- Ratchet leaned over Orion. “I’m going to put you back under, Optimus. We’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise.”

Orion started to protest, but his vision was already dimming. “Let… me…”

“Shhh. It’ll be ok,” Ratchet murmured. “You’re safe.”

No. He wasn’t, Orion wanted to protest, but yet again, the black closed in on his mind.

~ | ~

The red mech was standing over Orion when he woke again, and he frowned up at him.

“Remember me?” the red mech asked.

“Yes. You held me down earlier.” Which he was not going to forgive, even if he could feel the mech’s field pressing against his with a mix of hope and sadness.

“Before that. Don’t recognize me at all, do ya?” The red mech glanced up, and Orion followed his gaze to the medic, who was currently bent over something on the counter. “Name’s Ironhide,” the mech said, drawing Orion’s attention back to him. “We’ve known each other for thousands of vorns.”

“That’s a lie!”

“Easy,” Ironhide said and placed a hand on Orion’s shoulder. “It’s not. We don’t know what happened ta ya. There was a battle a few weeks back, and you and Megatron were fightin’, and then just gone.”

“Where is Megatron?” Orion demanded.

“With the ‘Cons where he belongs.”

Orion went still. “Wait. You mean we were fighting _each other_?!” He shook his helm. “No.”

“Ironhide,” the medic -Ratchet, Orion reminded himself- said.

Ironhide heaved a sigh. “Look, it’s gonna be a lot ta take in, but if ya promise ta stay calm, then I’ll let ya up, and we can see if we can jog your memories inta comin’ back.”

Orion gave the mech a cautious nod, then slowly sat up as the binding straps were released.

“We met,” Ironhide said, “back when I was a palace guard. Got stuck trailin’ around after the priests that were out huntin’ down the mechs that had the right spark resonance ta maybe be the next Prime. Was bored as the Pit in that library, but then ya walked in for your shift and we stood there chattin’ a bit. Priest tested ya just before we left.” He eyed Orion. “Anythin’?”

“You’re making it up. Sentinel’s the Prime. Why would the-” Orion cut off with a frown. “You’re telling me that I’m missing _thousands_ of vorns of my life? Do you know how insane that sounds? And why would I have been fighting Megatron?” No. He wouldn’t. Megatron with that purr of his, and the smirk that could melt Orion’s internals? Megatron with all the right ideas and strength to stand up against a corrupt system? No.

“We don’t know if Megatron’s lost his memories too, or not,” Ratchet said, coming to stand by the berth. “What happened while you were out there? Did he try to convince you of anything? To take his side against the Autobots?”

Orion shook his helm. “Why would he?”

“Cuz the ‘Cons are our enemies, and old Megatron’s their leader,” Ironhide said.

“No.” Orion recoiled from the hand that reached toward him. He didn’t care if they were trying to comfort him or not. He didn’t want them touching him. “No, you’re wrong.”

“Ya’re the Prime.”

“Damnit, Hide!” Ratchet cursed and reached across the med berth to smack the red mech’s shoulder. “Can’t drop a bomb like that on an amnesia patient.”

Orion shook his helm. “I’m not. Why-? How? That’s… No.”

Ratchet huffed. “See?” He met Orion’s optics with a serious expression. “It’s true. It’s also why we were calling you Optimus. You _are_ Optimus Prime, formerly Orion Pax. Once a dock worker, then an archivist. But I know we can talk until we’re blue in the face and you won’t believe it.” He pointed to the computer terminal behind him. “Teletraan has all the records you could want. You can ask it anything, review all our history. But before I can clear you to leave the medbay, I need to know you’re not going to glitch or run off.”

Orion bit his lip and really looked at Ironhide. He was taller, he thought, but Ironhide had the look of a barroom brawler. He’d be slagged. Better to just research. He was good at that. “I agree.” Primus, help him.

~ | ~

Orion- _Optimus_ shut down the terminal, hid his face in his hands, and wept. Again.

Every day since Ironhide had shown him to his office and sat Orion down at the terminal was the same. He had started with Optimus Prime’s journal, and was even able to see himself in the words, the cadence and style. The emotion. He read the frustration and desperation. He read about the young gladiator the Senate hated and condemned, and he read how he agreed with what the mech said, but not his violent ideas for how to change things. Orion watched recordings of battles, of medbays in the aftermath. He watched cities fall and the Senate murdered. He watched the Towers crumble to the ground. He watched a face he adored, twisted with rage, shouting for the death of Optimus Prime.

For _his_ death.

Orion, who stopped correcting them since they all insisted he would remember he was Optimus eventually, read everything even as it ripped his spark out and viciously crushed it over and over and over again. He read through tears that poured unceasingly from his paled optics. He watched the vids and viewed the image captures. He saw the attack on the _Ark_ , and the crash. Teletraan had even better records from their waking on Earth and since, and Orion watched Autobots argue and fight in the corridors. He saw the medic drink himself into a stupor after every battle, his plating still streaked in grime and blood. He watched _himself_ order those mechs that fought and argued and kissed and clung to one another with desperation out to battle after battle after battle.

He read the reports. Prowl’s dry play by play. Jazz’s clever insights. Ironhide’s assessments written without his distinctive accent, but peppered liberally with profanity. He read Ratchet’s repair list. He read the incident reports from in-fighting and patrols.

Worst, absolutely worst of all, were the vids of Optimus Prime and Megatron clashing. They tore at one another. They cursed. And while Optimus seemed to hold back from the killing blow, there were far too many times where only luck or a timely interruption kept Megatron from destroying him.

Orion looked back up at the blank screen, the last file playing on a loop in his mind. He had just slammed his fist right into Megatron’s face. The dents Orion had woken with marred his plating. Megatron reeled back, but his hand clenched on Prime’s arm, pulling him forward. There was an energy blade in Prime’s hand, and he was driving it toward Megatron’s chest. Then-

Nothing.

They were gone, and the knife dropped to the ground, the power cutting out with the impact.

Orion couldn’t get the image of the knife out of his mind. He was going to do it. Prime had been about to actually take a life. Instead, he had woken up two-thirds the way across the country from that battle with no memory of anything that happened after that evening at the bar with his friends. Where was Dion now? Where was Axel or Tecton?

He longed to speak to Megatron, but he knew better than to ask. He’d tried asking. Then he’d tried breaking through the comms on the terminal anyway. He’d failed, and each attempt made them look at him with more sadness. More _fear_. Orion was sick all the way to his spark. He was in agony, but couldn’t tell Ratchet. The medic was clearly worried, and according to the vids, in enough pain himself. He couldn’t tell any of them anything, and in truth, he even understood why they wouldn’t let him contact Megatron. Look how they had fought.

Orion pulled a cloth from his subspace and scrubbed his face dry as he composed himself, then closed the battlemask. He learned that first day that seeing him upset shook the mechs around him to their cores. They became frantic and frightened. He was Prime. He didn’t cry. He didn’t look weak in front of them. He clamped his field in tight, trying to numb himself and shove all that weighed his spark down out of his mind. It was just a few corridors to his quarters, he reminded himself. He would nod at the mechs he passed, maybe trade a few polite words, then he could lock his door, fall to his berth, and sob until unconsciousness claimed him.

It could have been scripted, Orion thought as he pressed the button beside his keypad to be sure the door locked. Bluestreak had chattered and waved, but didn’t even break stride. Mirage had dipped his chin in a deferential nod-almost bow. Orion had returned the greeting when Blaster called out a cheerful, “Hey, Optimus!”

Orion crossed to his berth -mask retracting because he had come to hate the feeling of it and what it meant, and in private he refused to wear it- and nearly sat on the datapad resting there. Orion twisted, gaze sweeping the room. Who would have come in here without his knowledge or permission? For a moment all he could do was stare at it. Then hope flared to life. How many times had he seen one of the Decepticon spies creep into the _Ark_? Orion snatched up the datapad and turned it on. It was a time and set of coordinates.

Without even a thought, Orion shoved the datapad into his subspace and left his quarters. He wasn’t terribly sneaky, figuring that would be more suspicious than simply striding through the halls. He knew of alternate ways out than the main entrance, again, from the vids, and headed toward a cavern that led either to hot springs or out to the eastern face of the volcano. It was dark outside, the stars obscured by low, thick clouds. Orion didn’t see any sentries, but then maybe the Autobots didn’t bother with them? Megatron- at least before -rarely attacked the _Ark_ , and when he did, he did it loudly and directly.

It took no time at all for Orion to slip into the woods that surrounded the volcano. The coordinates weren’t far at all, and he worried for Megatron being that close. There was a suspicious little voice in his helm that had the nerve to suggest this was a trap, but Orion ignored it. So what if it was a trap? He didn’t want to fight their war. He wasn’t really their Prime.

Orion stopped at the edge of a clearing and tried to calm his vents, but then Megatron stepped forward, silver and perfect, the only change the odd purple symbol of the Decepticons on his chest. Orion had been given back his Autobot emblems too, so dismissed it as unimportant and stepped forward to show himself. For a moment neither of them moved, but then Megatron opened his mouth to speak, and Orion couldn’t let him. He threw himself forward and flung his arms around Megatron’s shoulders, hiding his face in the mech’s neck. Familiar arms tightened around his middle and a breath shuddered out of Megatron.

Words poured out of Orion. Everything he’d watched and read and seen. “It can’t be! It _can’t_! I was going to kill you!” He was shaking so hard their plating rattled together. “They want me to remember. They want me to lead them in more battles,” he sobbed. “They _want_ me to kill you, but I can’t. Megatron, I _can’t_.

Megatron held tighter and made soft hushing sounds, but he really wasn’t faring any better than Orion, his own face wet when he pulled back, mouth open but no words forming. Orion caught his face between his hands and pulled them both into a desperate kiss. Megatron gave a low moan and dragged them to the ground. Orion wrapped both legs around a silver one, then arched up, spark thrusting out greedily for the one he swore he could feel pulsing above him.

Energy rushed back into Orion, making the ache burn brighter for a moment before pleasure began to take over. Megatron’s lips rained kisses on his face, then trailed to his audial where he whispered in broken words of need. And more. The universe tilted under Orion, and something deep within went warm and content. This was _right_. He clung tight to the other mech as bliss rolled up over both of them in unrelenting waves. He cried out, unrestrained, with his release, Megatron’s low, hitched moans an erotic echo.

Orion drifted for a while, even when Megatron slid to the side and tugged him along.

“We have to end this,” Megatron said, his voice low against the side of Orion’s helm. “We’ve discussed all of this and more. I’ve managed some control over the Decepticons, but it won’t last. I’m not that mech.”

“Me either,” Orion whispered. “I don’t even know if I can lead them. I’m not Optimus, even if I look like him. I really do have the Matrix inside me, but it doesn’t speak. It doesn’t guide.” He shook his helm and pressed closer to Megatron. “I can’t fight you. I don’t even think I could really fire a blaster at anyone.” Maybe to protect Megatron, he thought, recalling that day they were taken.

Megatron nodded, nuzzling into Orion’s neck. His voice was a little muffled when he spoke, but the words were clear in the silence of their little meadow. “They want us to lead, so we will. We end this ridiculous war before there’s no one left to save.” He pulled back and met Orion’s optics with a determined look. “It’s _us_. We can fix this because we’re _not_ the warmongers in the histories. Not anymore. Whatever happened to us, we’re not those mechs anymore, and I refuse to become him.”

Orion bit his lip and agreed. “Alright. We lead and we end the war, and then we go to Cybertron and save our world.” He huffed a slight laugh and gave Megatron a watery smile. “And if that fails, we can just leave them all to destroy themselves and run away together.”

Megatron snickered and reached up to brush away the tears on Orion’s face. “Plan B.” Then he leaned in to kiss Orion again, gentler, slower, and the archivist melted against him.

~ | ~

Soundwave laid still and silent in the underbrush, his blaster trained on Optimus Prime’s back. One shot, two at the most, and the mech would be dead, but still he held his fire. Megatron had not regained his memories, which meant that while he’d come to trust Ravage as a spy, he did not recall that Ravage did nothing without clearing it through Soundwave first. Especially something as risky as sneaking into the Autobots’ base to deliver a secret message to the Prime.

Soundwave was not terribly concerned over the lack of memories as Megatron’s goals remained once he viewed the histories. What was troubling was the emotional attachment to the Prime. It was why he allowed Ravage to deliver the message and why he was there now, trying to decide if he needed to destroy the Autobot or not. He doubted Megatron would forgive him if he did, and after all he had just heard, Soundwave was inclined to let them live.

// _S’up there, ‘Wave._ //

Soundwave tensed, surprised that Jazz had so seamlessly hacked into his personal comm channel. That was something he hadn’t thought possible. // _The mangling of my designation: not appreciated._ //

Jazz continued on blithely, ignoring the fact that Soundwave had spoken. // _So, nice show, eh? Know ya watched and listened too. Can end this all right now. Got a little something here that should do in Megs pretty good._ // He paused, but when Soundwave said nothing, he added, // _’Course, I know that if I kill Megatron, then ya’re gonna kill Optimus- Sorry. Orion. And I like the kid, so that’d suck some. Can kill ‘em both right now though. Go on with our war and keep slaggin’ each other on the daily._ //

Soundwave cycled his vents quietly, not that the two mechs in the glade would notice. They writhed and twisted together, lust and longing radiating from them. // _Or?_ // he prompted. Because Jazz had an ‘or’, or he wouldn’t have spoken up.

// _Or…_ // Jazz replied, drawing the word out with amusement clear in his tone, // _we can let the lovebirds here have their way._ //

It was surprisingly easy for Soundwave to lower his blaster. // _Peace would be preferable._ //

// _Yeah. I was thinkin’ the same thing. ‘Sides. They’re cute t’gether._ //

~ | ~

They met on neutral ground, and Orion took mischievous pleasure in the shock from both Autobots and Decepticons when he and Megatron greeted one another with an embrace. Orion would have liked to stay there in the silver mech’s arms longer, but they did have work to do.

“Thank you for coming,” Orion said once everyone had mostly quieted. “I’m sure you can all agree that this war has dragged on far longer than it ever should have.” He glanced at Megatron. “That’s our fault.”

“Our old selves’ fault,” Megatron corrected.

Orion tipped his helm in agreement, then continued on. “It’s ridiculous.” He stepped forward, Decepticons to his left and Autobots to his right, and spread his arms. “Look at what we’ve done. We’re stuck on this little alien world, bickering, destroying someone else’s planet because we’ve already destroyed our own. When will it stop?” He turned, meeting the optics on either side that could hold his gaze. “We don’t _remember_ the war. Or our hatred.”

“Good!” Starscream said. “Let those memories stay gone.” Someone from behind Orion gasped, and someone else cursed, but the Seeker huffed. “Oh please.” He jabbed a finger at Megatron. “I _like_ him! _He_ is the mech I signed up to follow. Do you know he hasn’t beaten me _once_ since he came back? Hasn’t even _threatened_ to!”

“That _is_ a shock,” Cliffjumper muttered.

Orion gave the red minibot a firm look, then returned to Megatron’s side and comfortingly gripped his arm.

Megatron wore a stunned expression and was staring at the Seeker in something close to horror. “You’re my Second in Command!”

“Exactly!” Starscream said, his voice verging on shrill despite the smile. He pointed again at Megatron. “I never want you to get your memories back. This is great.”

“It’s unlikely that they will get their memories back at this point,” Ratchet said, his voice raised to be heard over the sudden din of conversation. Everyone quieted down rather quickly, however, and gave the medic their attention as he stepped forward with a datapad in his hand. “Given all the research Orion’s done, if something was going to trigger a recovery, it should have happened by now.”

“Yes, exactly,” Perceptor added. “I too, have tried to find the cause of the memory loss, but I cannot even uncover where they might be stored.”

“ _If_ they’ve been stored,” Ratchet said.

“I believe,” Perceptor continued, “that if the memories are there to return, it will happen spontaneously. The chance of that, however, is very low indeed.”

“What about the Matrix?” Thundercracker asked. “I mean, that’s supposed to have all the history of the Primes, right?” Blue wings dipped a little, and the Seeker glanced around uncertainly at all the mechs now focused on him.

“The Matrix is there,” Orion said, drawing attention back to himself. “I can feel it now, have been able to since Megatron and I agreed not to fight one another regardless what any of you decided.” He brought a hand up to his chest and focused inward just a little bit. “It feels… content. Like I’m doing the right thing.” Dropping his hand again, Orion faced the crowd of mechs. “Whatever it did before, _if_ it did anything, it’s not doing it now, but the Matrix doesn’t matter.” A murmur ran through both armies. “We want peace. For all our sakes.”

Megatron’s hand settled on Orion’s shoulder for a moment, then he addressed the mechs, most of whom looked varying degrees of nervous. “We need to go home. We need to rebuild Cybertron and save all of our people that remain. We know there aren’t many. It’s this or extinction.”

Glances were shared all around, and the buzz of individual conversations rose. It was Starscream that spoke up first, and that was to throw his lot in with Megatron and Orion. He even called Orion by his name instead of Optimus.

“Me too,” Ratchet said. “I’m done putting you fraggers back together only to watch you go get slagged again. I’d rather tend stupid injuries mechs get from rebuilding our home, or doing maintenance.” He eyed a number of Decepticons. “Something you glitches need according to my scans.”

“I’ve got this hitch in my wing,” Starscream began, a smirk on his face as he wiggled a wing at the medic.

Blue optics narrowed, and Orion wasn’t sure if he was seeing two mechs flirt, or one getting ready to have his aft handed to him.

“How can we possibly trust them?” Red Alert asked, then clutched his helm. “That’s asking too much. They’ve been trying to kill us for ages!” Beside him, Ironhide met Orion’s optics and nodded.

“I’m all for it!” Jazz announced with a bright grin. “Slag the war. I ain’t sayin’ we just up and forget, but what’re we headin’ toward if we just continue on how we been?”

It was, surprisingly, Soundwave to agree with Jazz. “Peace: best option.”

Prowl, ever the voice of reason, said, “It will not be easy to build trust, but I believe the attempt would be more beneficial than continuing to fight one another.” He gave Orion a soft smile. “We should try.”

Orion smiled in return. “We have to start somewhere.”

“And that start should be bringing the Decepticons off the ocean floor and out of that rusted heap they’ve- we’ve been living in,” Megatron said. “I believe Starscream had a number of ideas for collecting energon that wouldn’t put us in conflict with the organics.” The Seeker preened, smile wide and optics bright.

From there, it went easier. Orion noticed Autobots and Decepticons edging closer to one another. A few had pulled datapads from their subspaces and were writing or showing the contents to others. Prowl, Jazz, Starscream, and Soundwave clustered together with Orion and Megatron to begin laying the groundwork for a real treaty, and the rest milled around. Some even added their own suggestions. After a few hours a some of the younger mechs got bored and a game of touch football was started.

In Orion’s chest, the Matrix sang.

~ | ~

Orion smiled when he heard Megatron approach, his feet clanking lightly over the _Ark_ ’s hull, but he kept his gaze on the stars above. Powerful arms, lacking in all weaponry, wound around Orion’s waist, and Megatron’s chin rested on his shoulder.

“We’ll be home soon.”

“Yes. I do like Earth though,” Orion said. “I like the scent of the trees and how nice the sun feels on my plating.”

Megatron rumbled his agreement and pressed a kiss to the side of Orion’s neck. “We can come back on vacation. We’re going to need one. I’ve spoken to Shockwave, and I believe we have our work cut out for us.”

Orion chucked. “And I spoke with Ultra Magnus earlier. I got the same impression.”

“Mmn.” Megatron tugged. “Come in and recharge with me. Tomorrow will be another busy day, with more work, and more mechs asking if they can call you Prime yet.” The both snickered, and Orion wrapped his arms over Megatron’s and leaned back. “How is the Matrix?” Megatron asked, one hand lifting to brush over Orion’s chest.

Orion shrugged, then turned to face Megatron. “I’ve tried talking to it. Meditating as the old texts say, but I don’t know what I’m doing. I do feel like we’re doing the right thing though.” He lifted a shoulder and let it drop again. “It’s content when I notice it at all.” Sometimes, though he wasn’t ready to admit it out loud, when he needed to make a decision, he could think of each choice and _sometimes_ the Matrix would feel warmer, but he wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or not.

“Good,” Megatron said, pulling Orion from his thoughts, then made his spark pulse harder with a soft, warm kiss. “Now come inside with me.” He tugged, and Orion let himself be pulled along. After all, the Matrix felt a little warmer just then. Or maybe that was just his spark?

**Author's Note:**

> [Amnesia by LB82](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7262953)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Amnesia](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7262953) by [LB82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LB82/pseuds/LB82)




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